Rainbow-Seven: Worldwide Task Force
by AttiWantsToBattle
Summary: In this written story to the famous Tom Clancy video game series, this tells the story of Rainbow-Seven, a new team created to handle the growing influence of the White Mask Terrorist. How will it go, who will die, and who will be left standing in the ashes of the ones he/she loved. Dedicated to the late Tom Clancy, thanks for giving me some of my happiest moments in gaming.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Due to the increase in heinous crimes around the globe, there has been a meeting amongst the countries leaders, from presidents, to queens, kings, and even dictators. It was decided upon that the 'Rainbow Six' program would be immediately put back into action against the new threat of the 'White Masks Terrorists'. However, times have changed, the white mask terrorist have grown tremendously in publicity and are much more popular with radicals an anarchist. One, one elite team (Rainbow-Six) is no longer adequate for this situation. The terrorists have grown too big for just Rainbow-Six to handle. The time has come for the rainbow team to grow.

This form requests permission for the activation of Rainbow-Seven. The team would be selected from the bests around the globe, including previous Rainbow-Six candidates and soldiers drafted from around the globe. Once a signature is placed on this form the recruitment will begin immediately and Rainbow-Seven will be directly under the supervision of the 'Rainbow' program leaders.

 _ **APPROVED**_


	2. A Second Chance

**A Second Chance**

 _"I know- I expect too much, and not enough, all at once!"_

Mike's earbuds had been playing rather loudly in the back of the S.W.A.T (Special Weapons And Tactics) armored vehicle. When he turned to look at his team the leading officer made hand gestures, symbolizing to take out the earbuds for the mission. As Mike removed his earbuds the sound of the engine and the checking of weapons filled his ears once again, Fall Out Boy seeming to have become a distant audible memory. The officer nodded towards Mike and Mike responded with a similar nod, saying he was 'ok' and on top of it now.

The lead officer turned to the others and said,

"This is a simple hostage situation, we've practiced this over and over, it'll be a walk in the park."

The other members, including the officer, laughed and chuckled, talking about the first drink at whatever bar they usually talk about. As usual Mike just faded to his tactical thoughts, he thought about chemical components, how a gun fires, how a bullet kills or even how it maimes an opponent. He thought of all this while spinning a bullet up and down his fingers like a ladder. He felt the truck stop and tuned back into reality almost immediately, he could tell they had arrived because the energy in the air went from friendly to professional real quick. As he stepped out of the armored vehicle Mike took a look around to try to assess the situation.

Mike, instead of seeing a perfect police barricade, gazed upon a horrific image. Police officers on the ground wounded, they didn't even have enough body bags on site to cover the dead. Granted they only had about four or five, but that was four or five too many. Mike thought to himself, avoiding eyesight of the more mangled bodies 'so this is why the police barricade is a whole city block away'. Mike and his horror stricken team had moved from the on site medical area to the front line, trying to hide their disgust and fear, as it would be bad for morale, something the standard police officers desperately needed.

The team officer tapped the police leader on the situation and asked,

"What's the situation?" The team leader asked,

"Bad, really bad," The police leader replied, his face pale as he turned towards the S.W.A.T officers, "This isn't just criminal activity, this is a terrorist attack, they've got poison gas, tear gas, armor piercing rounds, and we can't identify them due to the fact that they're wearing these." The police officer, having finally calmed down to a bare minimum, handing their squad leader the white mask with a black leather strap.

The squad leader let out a sigh and returned the mask to the barricade leader, patting his back and holding it there for a second to show he feels sympathy for the leader, after all, he was the one who would have to report of the deaths,

"Don't worry, you did a good job saving who you could…" there was a long pause then the squad leader picked up again, "We're going in, push the barricade back another block to avoid civilian casualties and don't let them see the bodies for… obvious reasons."

The barricade leader nodded, gave the order over the radio and turned to the S.W.A.T leader, a bright but gloomy smile displayed before the S.W.A.T members,

"Just in case I don't see you again, thank you for the advice, I'll buy you a drink when you make it back."

The team members laughed at that and nodded towards the barricade officer, heightening the police line tape so the team members could get past it without entanglement. The team gave each other a nod of recognition and their minds molded into one, their actions became one, they had become one unit, imperfections and all. As they turned the block corner to enter the street of the warehouse they immediately came under fire from a mounted machine gunner position.

The captain yelled loudly as he rolled into an alley,

"Into the alley way! Dodge those light machine gun rounds!"

And the squad moved as ordered, swift and without hesitation for the sake of their lives and the lives of their squad. Mike headed towards the alley way, feeling bullets ricochet around him and watched as pieces of drywall flew off the buildings of the residential district. As Mike slid into the alley the mounted machine gun stopped firing and they could hear the sounds of a reloading weapon.

The leader stood up straight, lowering the mask which covered his face so Mike could see his mouth move,

"He's reloading, now's the time to str-" In that instant, Mike's adrenaline pumped into his brain and time seemed to slow for him, he saw the light glare off a rifle scope but didn't have time to react as the rifle fired, sounding like a cannon as the bullet left it's barrel in a fiery rage.

Mike yelled and reached towards the captain, but the words didn't leave his mouth fast enough, and he just wasn't quick enough. The bullet ripped through the back of the captain's nape and exited out where the adam's apple should be, barely missing Mike and creating a huge cloud of dust, dirt, and mostly blood. Mike's eyes widened in horror, his body unable to stop itself from moving. His captain's blood stained Mike's gloves and mask. Mike could smell the copper from the blood and taste the air of it in his mouth. It was revolting to the point where he almost threw up, he was pulled back behind cover as he watched the squad leader fall onto his knees, eyes wide and staring at Mike as he fell onto his face, a pool of blood beginning to form.

"The captain!" Yelled one squadmate,

"Leave him!" Said another, breaking down a chunk of drywall and entering the building beside them, "The machine gun was holding fire for the sniper, it'll rip us to shreds if we don't move!" He and one other jumped the drywall, entering the abandoned apartment complex and charging for good cover.

"Five hundred meters, no wind resistance." Mike muttered to himself, switched his rifle to a single shot and took aim, calculating everything on spot, he took the shot, heard a scream, saw a body falling from a building, and entered the complex. He was watching his team's rear as he advanced inside the building.

He heard gunfire from the team's rear so Mike turned his head quickly to the front, only to see one of his team members trying to stop a suicide bomber at close range.

"I can't- Help!" Mike couldn't reach his team on time and the other member just stood there scared as the suicide bomber detonated.

Limbs flying in multiple directions and bodily fluids landing on the goggles of Mike, the other team member sent flying backwards from the shockwave. The only intact body was that of the other S.W.A.T member, and even he didn't survive. When Mike's head had finally stopped spinning and his ears done ringing, he began to take in his surroundings. He was thrown backwards, his back against a wall and in front of a staircase on his left. He felt his lower half of his body being weighed down so he looked downwards to see what was lying on him. He snapped back into the fearful reality when he recognized the charred skin and skull of his teammate, the body just sitting there in his lap. This time Mike actually did throw up, he fell towards his left and was down on all fours, vomiting from the smell and scene he had just witnessed. When he had finally calmed down he was still shaking horrendously, a step down from a seizure type shake.

He stood up, his legs still shaky and slowly began advancing. Unable

to even hold the weight of even his gun, he leaned against a wall for support and draw his pistol, feeling sick once again as his vision blurred in and out. As the adrenaline began to die he felt a strong sting in his right arm, to Mike's surprise he found the sniper's bullet had actually cut the outer layer of his muscles, creating a stream of blood, the cut started at his wrist and down to his elbow. He was barely able to break a window, after three hits to the window he could only stumble out of it, falling on his face and stomach and struggling to stand back up. When he finally did his back was to a chain link fence and he was breathing heavy.

A voice sounded over the radio in a Russian accent,

"This is team Rainbow-Six, calling to any survives near the warehouse, you have five seconds to reply, out."

Mike let a breath out relieved, he would finally be getting back up, he had never heard of Rainbow-Six but he didn't care at the moment. He picked up his radio shakely to respond but was soon knocked flat by one of the terrorists. This one was different from the others, he had a gray hoodie with ripped sleeves and a detached bayonet in his right hand, the terrorist chuckled and slowly approached Mike, playing with the bayonet in his hand,

"Five seconds are up," said the radio buzzing, too far for Mike to get to, "Ash, fire a br-"

"Hold it Glaz," Said another voice, this one American, "I'm getting a pulse, one's strong and one's weak, but they're definitely fighting, let me go in and check."

The Russian sighed and spoke some kind of Russian curse before he began to speak, "Three minutes."

"Got it, Pulse out." Said the American before the radio went dead.

'Help is coming, I just half to hold this guy off' Mike thought to himself, rather furiously. He had gained enough strength to the point he could break he man's thumb. He threw up his hand quickly, twisting the terrorist's thumb back which went along with a loud pop. Mike thought he had regained the upper hand, but instead he had only made the man furious. He slammed the bayonet knife downwards with such great force that it knocked Mike to the ground. Mike let out a loud scream of pain as the bayonet went far into his shoulder. The pain was even more when it touched the inner layer of bone. Mike continued his scream as pieces of bone were shredded off his inner shoulder blade. It was all Mike could do to hold up his oppressor's arm, preventing his attacker from impaling him and ruining his shoulder for good.

Mike let out another loud scream, to show his attacker he had the willpower, and to hopefully draw attention to his presumed saviors that were on the way. But he knew he was losing ground, he could feel the knife going just a little bit deeper every time the attacker pushed, causing excruciating pain. He could feel his strength seeping away, he closed his eyes and thought about his family, his friends, his teammates and reached for a grenade on his utility belt, searching for the pin. 'God' Mike thought to himself, 'if you're out there, if you exist, help me'. It was at that moment he had found the pin to his one and only frag grenade, ready to pull it. He closed his eyes tighter, about to pass out and then BLAM.

Mike opened his eyes a little bit to see what had just happen, to see if the attacker had arose and had shot him for a quicker kill. But, instead he saw his attacker, laying dead on his side and a man with black midnight sunglasses on rushing towards him. 'I didn't know you liked Oakleys, God' Mike thought to himself, confused and staying awake solely on adrenaline. Once the man got close to Mike he was able to see that the man had an American flag on his left shoulder, and it clicked for Mike. 'So God is an American ninja who likes Oakleys' it had made perfect sense to the delirious Mike. He said some things over the radio, he saw a flying silver bolt behind the man, and then a huge detonation followed by screams in Arabic.

The man presumed to be God checked Mike's pupils, hoping for a response. Once he confirmed a response and a pulse, he yelled over the radio so loud that Mike could almost hear it through his ringing ears. Mike just nodded in weary response, partly to look professional, and partly because gravity had brought his head down. The man in front of Mike had grabbed the knife and yanked it out hard, cause Mike to scream in pain and begin to black out, a rope ladder and a flat bed of cloth falling from the sky was the last thing Mike saw before he passed out into the unknown darkness.


	3. Rainbows Are Badass

**Rainbows Are Badass**

Mike's eyes slowly began to open, the light above him shining bright in his eyes. He let out a moan of laziness and annoyance 'what am I doing-' he was quickly reminded what had happened when he tried to move his shoulder. An intense pain had flared up, enough to make Mike bite his tongue and snap back to reality. He laid his back on the mattress beneath him, curiously moving his arm to his left shoulder slowly and carefully. He put his finger to his shoulder where the gash was, just touching it brought back memories, he let out an occasional ow, or oof, when he touched a tender spot, surprised at the progress the wound had made on healing.

"No, you can't heal super fast…" Said a voice to Mike's right, Mike turned quickly to see who it was, it was Oakley Jesus, "You've been out for four weeks, we didn't think you were going to make it."

Mike shot straight upwards, about to reply but he could only winced in pain as his shoulder flared up. Oakley Jesus stepped forward to help support Mike, his head down.

"Four weeks…." Mike whispered loudly, to himself and to reaffirm, "What about the hostage situation, did you all get the hostage? And what about the police barricade?"

Oakley Jesus moved to help Mike support himself before answering the question.

"The police barricade was fine," the man paused, taking a deep breath, "as for the hostage, the hostage never existed, it was created to draw attention to them, and then eventually kill any who tried to rescue the imaginary hostage they created."

Mike looked downwards in shock. Not because the hostage was fake, or not even because the terrorists were willing to throw away their lives like like they didn't even matter, but because his team, and the cops, had died for nothing.

"Mike, there's something I need to tell you," the man said, with a serious look as he took off his Oakley's, revealing his eyes.

"What is it?" Mike asked, bracing himself for more bad news.

"I'm not Jesus Christ," a smile began to grow on the man's face, "You were mumbling about Oakley Jesus while you were knocked out."

Mike's head shot upwards in embarrassment, trying to find words.

"I, uh, uhm, was woozy."

The man laughed a little, waving aside the discussion.

"Anyway, I would like to personally be your sponsor for the rainbow program."

Mike raised an eyebrow, confused.

"Listen, I respect all forms of sexuality, but no thank you."

The man furrowed his eyebrows, putting back on his sunglasses.

"It's not a club for homosexuals," The man sighed, facepalmed, then sat back down, "The terrorist you faced that day were the white mask terrorist, publicly they're a brand new terrorist organization, straight outta the terrorist factory place, whatever. Anyway, the white mask in particularly, are among the targets for the Rainbow program, our job is to stop terrorists before they go public, and in the case of the white masks, keep them classified and hidden away, eventually eliminate them."

"Okay," Mike spoke, still a little confused, "Why do I need a sponsor then? Just give me the paperwork and drop me in Afghanistan."

The man pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, showing it to Mike.

"An agent that's already in the Rainbow program has to 'sponsor' you so that way your skills are not in question, also you could possibly die going through this training, and if you do it's blamed on the sponsors, we're like a scapegoat."

Mike stood up, refusing help from the man and biting his tongue, to prevent from letting the pain get to him.

"I was meant to die in that alley way from that terrorist, it was luck you were there…" Mike smiled at the man, offering his hand to shake, "What have I got to lose?"

"Pulse" the man responded, "just call me Pulse."

"Mike," Mike responded, shaking Pulse's hand, "Mike Smith"

From this point on Mike was given free roam around the base. He was astonished at his findings. Rubber bullet obstacle courts, gymnastic rooms, a decent sized mess hall, a firing range and much more. Mike, curious as to what the institution had to offer in terms of firearms, went to the firing range first. He decided that since he had just woke up, he shouldn't be using heavy duty firearms. He decided it best to stick to pistols of smaller more standard calibers. Mike stood in a lane designated specially for sidearms, staring at a small P226 in the holster, Mike moved to pick it up, but hesitated. When his hand moved towards the gun, it felt like something was leaving him, his heart relaxed, his eyes relaxed, he almost felt numb when he picked up the gun, oddly enough, he felt whole when he knew for a fact he was losing something. It almost felt right, but _something_ was missing, other than he knew something that left him, it's almost like he needed something else, just that one more thing and he would've been perfect. In a blinding almost angry fury Mike whipped the weapon to the side with one hand, aiming at the paper target that stood before him. When he fired everything seemed slow, like that moment, the moment he watched his team die he could feel time slow but he knew it was still moving. This only made him more angry, but his anger made him feel alive and before he knew it, that feeling was gone again. Whatever he was missing came swelling back, and he began to feel the pain in his shoulder. He whispered a slight 'ow' to himself as he put away the pistol and pushing the button to pull in the target so he could get a better view of it.

He was amazed to see that each hit was a critical, but Mike was never even focused on a single shot. He was more concerned about himself, how this weird feeling had overwhelmed his thoughts, but it wasn't as if it was forced, he let it happen out of curiosity. He had just felt as though his entire being was ripped out of his body and something else took control of him for that period of time. And oddly enough, he couldn't stop, it was almost like a drug. He loaded another clip, pushed the target back faster, the feeling sweeping his body again as he began shooting. It had made him feel alive, the sound of bullet rounds being fired, the thought of a bullet hitting someone and all the physics behind it. When the clip was empty the feeling was gone, but he had to know, he had to know what he was missing. He put away the pistol and picked up a remington shotgun, just as angry as he was with the pistol that he couldn't solve this mystery. This time with the shotgun he got a bigger surge, the feeling enticing him even more to pull the trigger again with every shot. Mike just couldn't stop himself, this feeling, he needed it.

When the shotgun was empty Mike's feeling camp back, his shoulder grew painful and weary. He looked around at the people on the firing lane, who were staring back at him, unsure how he had made those pinpoint shots at such distances. Mike, still breathing heavy, put away the weapon and headed for the exit, adrenaline was still pumping through his body as he listened to the whispers of the standard law enforcement around him. 'Wow, is he a rainbow?' 'Yeah, a new recruit I hear' 'Wow, rainbows are badass' 'Shut up he might hear you!'. Mike exited the room, slowly but definitely speeding up in his pace, his breath increasing in pace and his anxiety skyrocketing. He bolted outside a door, it was snowing, 'holy shit it's snowing, what events took place while I was out?'

He ran further, he could hear the intercom behind him alerting that someone from the med bay escaped. Mike didn't care though, he ran, his feet freezing, giving him pins and needles, and little did he know, almost hypothermia before he passed out because of the barometric pressure, and his body not being used to the lack of oxygen coursing through his system, so he passed out, falling flat on his face as he heard the sound of crunching footsteps behind him.


End file.
